


Internal Displacement

by grimorie



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, F/F, Gen, Hanna Frey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6328942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimorie/pseuds/grimorie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn’t leave Sam Groves behind, but systematically cut her out: she lost the accent, the haircut, and her clothes were a far cry from the hand me downs she used to wear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Internal Displacement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [willowcabins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/gifts).



This was how it went: Sam Groves had been born in Bishop, Texas, to a family that's never amounted to anything. She’s found computers, and with that came the recognition that when by a computer, she was untouchable.

She had no friends and never looked for any, until Hanna Frey came along and painted her a picture of the world outside Bishop.

Then Hanna disappeared.

With that, Sam had woken up from a dream world and realized the world was a cold, harsh place, and the only things you could get from it were what you were willing to _take._

Sam decided to take Hanna’s dream that she’s given Sam: the world outside Bishop, Texas.

Root left Bishop. She didn’t leave Sam Groves behind, but systematically cut her out: she lost the accent, the haircut, and her clothes were a far cry from the hand me downs she used to wear.

She didn’t follow anyone’s rules but her own any longer.

She took the jobs that made big men squirm, and she’s earned more money than she - or they - could shake a stick at.

She found the Machine. Root thought She was Salvation and for a while, She was.

Harold's Machine was benevolent, and young; she cared about people, far more than Root liked to. She wasn’t entirely pleased, the first time the Machine had directed her to Sameen; but in the end, Root was pleasantly surprised by how well they worked together, despite Sameen's initial reticence.

If Root were to pinpoint the moment, the time at which it all went wrong, this was the moment she’d point to, the pebble that would grew into an avalanche. Because if there was one thing Root has never intended to, it was to fall in love.

Root has cared for Hanna, deeply. But Hanna had been taken by a monster, and Root would never know what might’ve happened other, were Hanna allowed to live.

Caring and love were concepts Root had torn out of herself and left behind in Bishop, too. 

Sameen was, altogether, an accident.

In all her life, from the insular small town of Bishop to bringing grown men to ruin all over the world, Root had never met someone like Sameen. Sameen who, by rights, could’ve - should’ve - been the ultimate example of bad code, yet wasn't; Sameen who was as loyal, as dedicated, as she was pragmatic. Sameen who _chose_ to protect people.

It didn’t make sense to Root. She took pride in her ability to _know_ people, but Sameen defied her. Root’s only ever known people to be one thing: selfish, even in their self-sacrifice. She couldn’t fathom why could Sameen _possibly_ gain from helping people.

The puzzle that was Sameen was like an itch in the inside of Root’s head. She went out of her way to provoke Sameen, to push and prod until she’s figured out what made the other woman tick. She teased Sameen and flirted with her, in increasingly ridiculous ways; and to her own surprise she’s kept on doing that even when she could somewhat predict Sameen, because she actually _enjoyed_ Sameen's put-upon sighs and her secretly-dorky responses, her razor sharp competence and her intelligence. She liked when Sameen's eyes went from her usual disinterest to brightened interest. 

The more Root coaxed that reaction from Sameen, the more she wanted to keep doing it.

Then Samaritan went online.

Root could no longer see Sameen whenever she wanted to. It made the void created by the Machine’s silence cut more deeply, and that much more painfully. When the missions from the Machine finally trickled in it was through half-whispers and in code. As the transition between identities became quicker, Sameen became the only person who made the burden feel less. Root found herself making any excuse just to be any place near Sameen: the department store, her new favorite diner, and of course, the subway.

Then it came crashing down on her, and Root was knocked down with a feather. So many things she’d re-learned for the Machine that she’s intentionally forgotten, but this - this was too far.

“Did you plan this?” Root asked, one day when the silence was too much, when missing Sameen became like missing a phantom leg.

Of course there was no answer. 

“You’re just like your father,” she said out loud, causing a few passersby to give her wide berth. Root ignored them, and made her own careful path back to the Subway base. She found the Subway empty; even Bear wasn’t around. She made a beeline to the computers, just because.

"Harold know you're going through his computer?" Sameen asked.

Root lifted her head from Harry's computer. Sameen had just walked unto the platform. Now Root was standing on the edge of a precipice, and she could choose: to ignore her newfound realization, or to run into it full-tilt. 

Sameen: difficult and stubborn, devouring a sandwich, disheveled, oblivious to - or else unconcerned with - the dirt on her cheek.

Sameen: even in absence of the Machine’s Presence, when Root was around her she felt connected, grounded, bound even with the earth beneath her feet. 

_Fall it is._

Root approached Sameen. She quirked an eyebrow at Root and pulled back from her sandwich; filled with pepperoncinis and overstuffed with meat, the sandwich seemed like it should be classified as hazardous material.

“What Harold doesn’t know…”

“--will kill ya,” Sameen said. She took a bite before speaking and her cheeks were ballooned like a chipmunk’s. Root thought she was the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

Sameen swallowed and took a swig off her beer. “Isn’t there anywhere else you need to be?”

“No.” Root smiled, then reached out and wiped the dirt off Sameen’s cheek; Sameen huffed, but didn’t swat Root’s hand or step back. "I’m precisely where I’m meant to be."

**Author's Note:**

> It takes a village to create a fic, and this is no different thanks to Hagar, Amidsthetrees, and Dealanexmachina for the handholding, wrangling and everything in between. 
> 
> Every mistake seen here are mine. 
> 
> Title from [The West Wing Title Project](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/1487052.html)


End file.
